


A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

by duplicity



Series: The Adventures of Harry and Mr. Tom [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst and Feels, Child Harry Potter, Demon Voldemort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentor Voldemort (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity
Summary: Six-year-old Harry Potter accidentally summons the demon Lord Voldemort, who learns that Harry's dearest is wish is to have a best friend.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: The Adventures of Harry and Mr. Tom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785181
Comments: 74
Kudos: 798





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this art i posted on tumblr](https://duplicitywrites.tumblr.com/post/620328523039703040/)!
> 
> thank you to all the lovely, encouraging people in my server who watched me write this ~~and had several breakdowns over it~~

The pleasant serenity of Privet Drive stretches down along the row of even-numbered houses. The orderly houses are spaced out with neatly-trimmed hedges and white picket fences between them, and there are children playing on the streets.

A few doors down from Number 4, Privet Drive, a small boy named Harry Potter has half a piece of chalk clutched in his hand.

The chalk—a dusty, pastel pink colour—is smeared with hints of red. Harry rubs at the marks with his fingers, trying to preserve as much of the chalk as possible. His palms and knees are still smarting from their rough contact with the pavement, and he can hear the wild sounds of laughter in the distance.

_("You stole it, didn't you? Didn't you? Freak, freak! Freak!")_

Harry _hadn't_ stolen the chalk. One of the neighbours had given it to him and offered free reign of the sidewalk. Harry, who has seen other children in the neighbourhood draw chalk pictures, had planned to draw some people on the ground. 

Mind awhirl with ideas, Harry had imagined what his family would look like if his parents were here with him. Him, his mum, and his dad. Would they look like the photos of Dudley, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia? Would they be three smiling faces with messy hair and green eyes?

On the ground by Harry's feet, the other half of his chalk lies smushed into the concrete by Dudley's shoe. Harry supposes he ought to feel grateful that Dudley and his friends had gotten bored enough to leave him with the other half.

With the bit of chalk that remains, Harry doesn't think he has enough to finish an entire picture. Besides, Dudley might come back and make fun of him for not having parents. The idea of drawing them no longer feels appealing. He will just have to keep the images in his head until he can commit them to paper. Then, maybe, he can put them up in his cupboard.

Decision made, Harry settles for drawing some simple shapes. Sun, moon, and stars. Just the other day, Harry had finally perfected the five-point star. He'd doodled it all over his maths homework, which was fine, because Dudley had later dumped his water on it anyways.

Harry squats down, ignoring the painful stretch of his knees. There are little flaps of scraped skin that he'll have to clean off before Aunt Petunia accuses him of making a mess in the house. Thankfully, Harry doesn't have to go back inside just yet. It's a hot summer day, and he has time to attempt some more complex shapes.

Harry drags his small pink chalk over the bumpy pavement, tracing a large circle on the ground. Then he shifts his weight as he admires his handiwork. The circle is nice and round, like the moon. Harry smiles down at it.

At night, though, there is the moon _and_ the stars. Harry scrunches his nose up. The stars are always so far away. It's hard to see the points on them. If they were closer, maybe he would be better at drawing them.

On a whim, Harry sets to work, leaning over his circle and starting the first point of a star on the left side. On he goes, touching the rim of the circle each time. Harry adjusts his position, shuffling around the shape as he goes. 

It’s harder to brace his arm while his knees are sore. Carefully, then, Harry places his left palm down on top of the chalk outline, careful not to smudge it. The scrape on his palm smarts a bit, but it's only for a moment, so he leaves it be. 

Harry finishes his star in record time, then straightens up. He thinks it looks very nice. Certainly better than anything _Dudley_ has drawn.

Satisfied with his drawing, Harry tucks the last bit of chalk into his shirt pocket.

Then he examines his hands. Despite his best efforts, they are covered in chalk dust. Harry wrinkles his nose. Aunt Petunia won't like it if he comes back all dirty, covered in blood _and_ chalk. He can't even wipe his hands on his shorts like Dudley does, because _he_ would get in trouble for ruining Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Harry claps his hands together, trying to smack the dust away, like how his teachers do when their chalkboard brushes collect too much chalk in them. 

This creates a cloud of dust that puffs upwards into Harry's face. Harry twitches, stumbling back, but he is too late.

He sneezes.

* * *

When the Demon Lord Voldemort is summoned to Little Whinging, Surrey, he expects to harvest the soul of some wretched degenerate in exchange for a useless boon.

Instead, he is greeted by a tiny human with wide green eyes and crooked round spectacles.

“Hello, sir,” says the small human, polite as you please. “Are you the monster that lives under Dudley’s bed?”

Voldemort does not know what a Dudley is, or why it has a creature living under its bed. 

“I am not,” says Lord Voldemort, in a booming tone laced with authority that has brought even the most powerful men to their knees. “I am Lord Voldemort.”

“V—” says the green-eyed weakling, spitting the syllables in a huff of air. “Vold-mart.”

“Vol-de-mort,” says the demon, enunciating clearly.

“Voll-dee-more.”

They’ll work on that later.

_(Later?)_

“Why have you summoned me?” Voldemort asks instead, swooping down to the small human’s height, the better to look it in the eyes.

The human blinks at him in confusion, cheeks puffing with roundness. Ah, this is a _youngling,_ not only a small human. It does explain the decreased intelligence and lack of reaction to external stimuli.

“What do you desire?” Voldemort clarifies. “What do you want?”

The youngling’s face brightens, somehow. Its little white teeth are bared in a wide display of aggression.

“I want a friend,” says the messy-haired youngling, eager. “I want a _best friend.”_

“And you will give me anything I wish in return?”

The small human bobs its head up and down in a rapid motion.

Lord Voldemort stares for a while, mesmerized by the sight. Such trust in that youthful face. Such bright eyes.

“I will return shortly,” Voldemort decides. “With your boon.”

The youngling shrinks down. “Will you come to the house?” it asks. The small face crumples with worry and anxiety. The scent of its fear wafts forward in strong waves.

Voldemort finds this offensive. When he deals with humans, they are always terrified, and then, after the deal is done, they are overjoyed. The pleasure of power and riches drives them to ecstasy.

"Would you prefer another location?"

"Um." The tiny one drops its eyes to the ground.

Voldemort tracks the direction, eyes the crudely-drawn summoning circle etched onto the sidewalk.

How had such a young one completed such a feat? Perhaps his initial assessment of the small human must be revised.

"In three days time, you will return to this place," Voldemort says. "And you will summon me here, and I will appear."

The youngling blinks. "With the moon and star?"

Crude, but not incorrect. "Yes."

The human's hand reaches into a pocket and retrieves something with quick fingers. Then the tiny hand splays out, palm up, fingers unclenched to reveal a few centimeters worth of pink children's chalk.

The chalk is not what catches Lord Voldemort's attention. 

What Voldemort notices is the damaged skin of the palm, too rough to have been intentional. Blood sacrifice is required for an initial summoning, of course, but this is... primitive. Even for a human.

"Pass that to me," Voldemort says, and lifts his own hand, pale and bony, claws extended.

It hesitates. Voldemort raises a brow. "You promised me _anything,_ did you not? And I have promised you what you desire."

The pink chalk is quickly deposited into his clawed grasp. So eager, this one. Voldemort closes his hand around the offering and hums deep in the back of his throat.

When his hand reopens, the chalk piece is whole and untouched.

"Wow!"

Voldemort places the chalk back into the youngling's care.

"Thank you, Mister V—" The mouth gapes around the name once more, fumbling. The tiny human's cheeks redden with colour, like an apple ripe for the picking. "Vol-did-more," says the youngling cautiously.

Voldemort sighs, pats the untamed patch of hair on the top of the human's head with his large, clawed hand. "You may call me 'Tom'."

The green eyes brighten with delight. "Mr. Tom! Thank you, Mr. Tom!"

Voldemort grins, long, pointed teeth on full display. A nightmarish sight for most, but this little human only continues to beam up at him. Absolutely _divine._

"Do you have a name, small one?" Voldemort croons, tracing a single claw over the forehead of the youngling, brushing its hair aside.

There is power in names. Names of humans are required to seal contracts. Even if he and this human have not sealed their formal agreement just yet, Lord Voldemort has decided he would like the name of this one. He would like to hear it.

"My name," declares the human child, sunlight blinding off of the lens of its glasses as it jerks its chin up proudly, "is Harry Potter."


	2. Bonus Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an extra snippet originally posted on my tumblr 💞

After Mr. Tom vanished back to where he had come from, Harry was left standing alone on the sidewalk, pink chalk clutched in hand. Harry was still amazed by how Mr. Tom had fixed it. The chalk looked brand new, like no one had ever used it before.

“Don’t lose it,” Harry mumbled to himself. “Don’t lose it.” This pink chalk would be how he would call Mr. Tom back in three days. He had to keep it safe until then, which meant keeping it away from all of the Dursleys.

Harry untucked the hem of his shirt—the shirt that was a little too big for him because it had belonged to Dudley—and rolled the chalk up in it. Then he tucked the rest of the shirt back in and looked over the result. That ought to work until he could get back to his cupboard and hide it away.

Once the chalk was hidden away, a sudden bolt of excitement ran through him. Mr. Tom was going to find him a friend! Harry wanted to jump and skip and shout with joy.

What would his new friend look like? Would they like the same things as Harry? Would they want to play games and draw together? Harry tried to picture his mysterious new friend and failed. Maybe he should have asked Mr. Tom more questions, but he hadn’t wanted to be rude about it.

Really, Harry would be happy with any friend. Even if they didn’t like to do the same things, Harry was willing to learn to do the things they liked.

And—and maybe once they were here, they could ask if Mr. Tom wanted to play with them as well.

Harry thought about that idea for some time. The three of them could all be friends. Mr. Tom was the nicest person Harry had ever met, and Harry was just as excited to see Mr. Tom again as he was to meet his new friend.

The happy feeling in his chest grew stronger. Harry began to walk back to Number 4, Privet Drive. He had never been more eager to get home and go to sleep. One sleep would bring him that much closer to having all his dreams come true.

**Author's Note:**

> this one-shot will be a part of an on-going universe. you can subscribe to the series for updates, of which there will definitely be continuations in the future.
> 
> find me & my writing updates on tumblr [here](https://duplicitywrites.tumblr.com)!
> 
> feel free to join my personal discord server for my writing [here](https://discord.gg/BJRP4A5)!
> 
> feel free to join my personal discord server for my writing [here](https://discord.gg/BJRP4A5)!


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